


The Constant

by aryastcrks



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 19:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryastcrks/pseuds/aryastcrks
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen had bad nightmares, but she also had one constant in her life: Sansa Stark. Through flashbacks and fastfowards, we see the journey that Dany and Sansa embark on together in love, death, heartbreak, trauma, and peacefulness.





	The Constant

**Author's Note:**

> I really struggled with this work, but I feel really proud of it as well. I really wanted to bring the readers into the story and feel the characters' motivations, their pain, and their hopes. I also really wanted to write some positive Dany/Sansa interactions, as Game of Thrones gave us none. I wanted to incorporate some telltale signs of PTSD in Dany and also some trauma/dissociation coping skills that I've learned along the way. I hope to have done Dany & Sansa (and Jon) justice, and I hope you all enjoy!

Daenerys dreamed. No longer good dreams, but terrifying ones; ones where the flames were no longer her friend, but her enemy, where she watched her children die over and over, where she looked into the face of terror, ones where she faced the emptiness of death. And yet every time she woke from these night terrors, shaking and sweating and screaming, a maid as red as autumn, with sunlight in her hair, was right there with her, soothing her, and whispering sweet words in her ear.

Ten of Dany’s namedays had passed since the War for the Dawn, and yet its horrors still haunted her. On this morning, Daenerys shuddered awake from another nightmare featuring a pair of icy blue eyes staring into her soul as a searing pain from deep within her belly seemed to course through her veins. Yelling for Sansa and clawing at her silver-gold hair, she tried to catch her breath as dream confused itself with reality. Sansa sat up next to her, moving her hand in soothing circles on Dany’s back while she propped her chin on the older girl’s shoulder, sleepily lulling Daenerys into a calmer state. 

After a few moments had passed and Sansa had laid back down, Dany was able to remember where she was: in Braavos, in the big house with the red door and the lemon tree outside her window, in her home. She looked around her bedchamber and counted every red item in the room; 3 candles, each decorated with a dragon carved into its wax, heavy drapes that blocked the sunlight from entering the room, a red and black Targaryen tapestry hanging above her bed, a red duvet stuffed with feathers covering her legs, soaked with sweat from Dany’s night terror, and Sansa’s red hair, splashed across the feather pillow beneath her like a painting. Dany’s breath and heartbeat had returned to normal and she wiped the sweat from her forehead. She felt embarrassed; this dream had been particularly intense, and she hadn’t had a nightmare in a few months. She wasn’t sure what had triggered it, but she also wasn’t sure that it mattered; what mattered was that Sansa was there to hold her until she returned to reality, and that she was able to recover from these dreams more quickly than ever. 

Dany looked sheepishly towards her wife, who was laying on top of the duvet, her silver silk slip covering her porcelain skin, her fiery hair shimmering, even in the dimly lit room, her ocean blue eyes pools of concern. She looked like a painting, almost too beautiful to be real. People had always said that Daenerys was the fairest woman in the world, even since she was a young girl, but she knew they were wrong when she looked at Sansa. A small smile played across her lips.

“I’m sorry,” Daenerys said quietly. She didn’t know what else to say. She was too humiliated by her reaction to the dream to say anything else, even though she knew that Sansa would say she had nothing to be ashamed of. Sansa always reassured and comforted her, and she always knew what to say. Dany knew in her heart of hearts that Sansa didn’t mind comforting her after her night terrors, and that Sansa was happy to be there for her wife, but she only wished that after all these years, she wouldn’t have to burden Sansa with her traumas.

Sansa only shook her head and sat back up, softly bringing her lips to Dany’s, kissing her tenderly. 

“Don’t apologize, my lady. I love you.”

Sansa rested her forehead against Dany’s and Dany closed her eyes, bringing her petite hand to Sansa’s soft cheek, stroking her thumb in small circles against her smooth skin.

“I love you too. Thank you,” Dany said gratefully. 

Sansa pulled away and Daenerys was slightly irritated at the loss of contact, but was appreciative seconds later when Sansa opened the heavy burgundy drapes to let the soft, natural sunlight into the room. The warmth of the sunbeams caressed her skin and Dany smiled softly, thankful for the sensation. 

Moments later, Daenerys heard giggling and little footsteps running towards their bedchamber. Her smile only grew bigger as little red-haired Rhaella and little silver-haired Catelyn burst into the room, their elder daughter, Catelyn, tugging along her sister. Dany opened her arms as the little girls jumped onto the bed and into Dany’s bosom. 

“Mommy! Auntie Arya and Nymeria were chasing us in the garden and we beat them to the lemon tree!” four-year-old Rhaella exclaimed, catching her breath. 

“Really?” Dany smiled, thankful to Arya and her well-trained direwolf for letting the children win a race, at least this once. “I’m so proud of my little runners! You two must have run so fast!” Dany wrapped her arms around Catelyn and Rhaella and showered them with kisses, joining them in laughter. Sansa tackled them all with a bear hug, and the giggling only grew louder. Daenerys soon forgot the night terror that woke her as she felt only happiness and gratitude for her wife and daughters, surrounding herself with nothing but love. 

*** * ***

Sansa smiled fondly, the Braavosi sea breeze and warm summer sunlight drifting through the leaves of the lemon tree, remembering the first time she had met Daenerys. It was in Winterfell, her home; Jon had brought Dany back from Dragonstone so she could help the North prepare for the coming storm. 

_Sansa was dazzled by the way Dany’s hair shone, even in the (lack of) light from the overcast, cascading in ringlets around her angular face. She was awed by her violet eyes, the color of amethysts, twinkling in the light of the torches. She was stunned by Dany’s fragrance, floral in nature, even after a long ride North. All in all, she was star struck._

_Sansa had heard rumors and tales from dozens of people about Daenerys, but none of them could have prepared her for Dany’s beauty, her kindness, her grace, nor her generosity._

_“Your Grace,” Sansa curtsied lightly, blushing furiously. Dany took Sansa’s hand in hers and brought it to her lips, kissing it gently. “My lady,” Daenerys smiled back. Sansa’s skin grew redder._

Sansa felt gooseflesh breaking out on her arms as she remembered her first kiss with Daenerys. 

_They were in the crypts of Winterfell. Sansa had shown Dany Ned’s and Robb’s statues, and spoke of their honor and bravery. She told Daenerys about her lady mother, and about her intellect and ferocity._

_“I never knew my mother or father. Nor my eldest brother, Rhaegar. The only family I ever knew was Viserys, and he was very cruel. I loved him... Once. But he sold me like a broodmare, to a man even crueler than he. I have very little fond memories of my family. I envy you for your memories, but I empathize with your losses.” Dany’s skin reflected the fiery orange of the torches, giving her a haunted look. It made her even more beautiful._

_“I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” Sansa took Dany’s hand in hers, tears forming in her eyes as she looked upon her father’s statue. The statue’s likeness to Lord Eddard was astonishing._

_“I miss him. And Robb and my mother. More than anything,” Sansa’s voice wavered, tears threatening to spill from her eyes._

_“I know,” Daenerys said softly, and took her other hand to put it against Sansa’s cheek. Somehow Dany’s bare hand was warm, warmer than the blood rushing to Sansa’s cheeks, despite the chill of winter running through the crypts._

_Sansa leaned into Dany’s hand and closed her eyes, thankful for the warmth of her contact. When she opened them, she saw Daenerys staring at her gently, her amethyst eyes sparkling with curiosity, and... desire? Sansa swallowed roughly, her mouth suddenly feeling dry. Her stomach was filled to the brim with butterflies and she could feel a tingling sensation in her cheeks._

_Daenerys stood on her tip toes as Sansa lowered her head to meet Dany’s, and then their lips touched. Sansa had never felt anything quite like this; she did not feel disappointment like when Joffrey kissed her, nor disgust and fear when Petyr or Tyrion kissed her — she felt excitement, joy, desire — fire rose up in her belly as she deepened the kiss. Although chaste, the kiss was charged with emotion for both of them, and it changed their lives._

Sansa’s expression turned sour as her thoughts, unbidden, turned towards the day Sansa found her wife’s lifeless body at Castle Black. She was cold, and pale, and still... so eerily still. 

_In the War for the Dawn, Jon had led the fight against the Others beyond the Wall. Sansa held down Winterfell with the help of Arya and Bran, and Daenerys and Sansa slept in the lord’s chambers together, spending their nights wrapped in each other’s arms with heavy furs draped around them to keep them warm. Although blissful, Sansa and Dany knew that their happy time together would be cut short. The day came when a raven flew from Castle Black, and in the letter contained these words in Jon’s scrawl: It is time. Daenerys flew North with Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion later that day. Standing atop the battlements of Winterfell, Dany and Sansa watched the pale winter sun rise over the harsh, barren landscape of the North._

_“Let me come with you,” Sansa pleaded after a long silence. “Let me help you.”_

_Daenerys smiled a small, sad smile, tears glistening in her eyes, a pale lavender in the light of the overcast. “You know you have to stay in Winterfell, my lady. You have your duty, and I have mine. Your people need you,” Dany said._

_“What about me?_ I _need_ you _!” Sansa exclaimed, tears now spilling onto her cheeks. Dany took Sansa’s gloved hands in hers and rubbed small, comforting circles into her palms._

_“I know,” Dany replied. “And I need you. But we must both remain strong. I must lead the people of Westeros out of the darkness. I am the only one with the power to stop this nightmare,” Daenerys said sadly, gesturing towards her dragons flying in the distance._

_Sansa broke into a sob that shook through her whole body, and Daenerys rushed to embrace her. “We will meet again, my love. I know this.”_

_Sansa nodded through her tears, and hugged Daenerys so tightly that Dany began to feel numb, but she did not mind. Dany departed on Drogon just an hour later, and Sansa felt her heart break in her chest as she watched her fly North._

_Weeks later, Sansa received a raven from Castle Black with an urgent message from Jon for her eyes only: Come at once. Sansa left Winterfell in the hands of her siblings and immediately departed for the Wall. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but Dany’s corpse was not one of the things she had dared to imagine._

_Sansa screamed when she walked into the room with Daenerys’ body lying on the table, and Jon had to restrain her._

_“_ NO _!” Sansa pleaded with whomever might be listening, whether it was her bastard brother, or the old gods or the new, or the Lord of Light. She tried running to Dany’s pale body with her purple lifeless eyes to match her purple lifeless lips, Sansa’s hand reaching out to the blood stain covering Dany’s silver chainmail._

_“Please, PLEASE, let me see her!_ LET ME SEE MY WIFE _!” Sansa screamed wildly, hot tears running down her cheeks. Jon and his brothers of the Night’s Watch held her back for reasons she could not understand. Sansa just wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to whisper words in her ear and look into her eyes one last time, but they wouldn’t let her._ Why wouldn’t they let her _?_

_When Sansa had calmed, Jon took her into his chambers and explained what had happened._

_The flames in the fireplace of the Lord Commander’s chambers flickered across the dark room, creating discomforting shadows; however, the small crackling sound coming from the fire comforted Sansa._

_Jon massaged his hand, as he always did._

_“We won,” he said, not looking up from the damp, cold floor. “Thanks to her.”_

_Sansa wanted to cry; she waited for the tears to spill onto her cheeks, but she could not summon them. She felt... numb._

_Jon finally looked up, and Sansa stared into Jon’s eyes, grey like ice; the Stark look. She searched his expression for an explanation for as to how Daenerys could have died, she but found none._

_Jon sighed, running his gloved hand through his dark brown hair. And so he told Sansa the story of Dany’s heroism._

Rhaegal and Viserion had been shot down out of the sky during the battle against the Others. Daenerys’ screams of anger and grief mixed together with the screams of dying men whilst Drogon bathed the wights in dragonfire. Men and women alike died on the icy landscape of the Frostfangs, leasing fiery arrows and using dragonglass daggers on the reanimated corpses with their dying breaths, painting a portrait of terror and death. When Drogon had been shot down, Daenerys came tumbling down as well, breaking her arm in the fall. Jon had rushed to her aid and protected her with the help of Dolores Edd, Pyp, and Grenn, fighting their way to the Night’s King. Daenerys picked up a dragonglass dagger despite never fighting a day in her life, and swung aimlessly to try and contribute to the fight. By the time they reached the Night’s King and his band of Others, the icy field behind them had turned into a field of fire, the smell of burnt corpses poisoning the air. Jon, Dany, Pyp, Grenn, and Edd fought valiantly with fire, dragonglass, and Valyrian steel. The other brothers of the Night’s Watch fell in their fight, and it came down to the Night’s King, Jon, and Daenerys. Dany clutched at her broken arm as she watched in horror while Jon was fighting the eerie Other with its inhuman eyes, Jon losing his ground and growing tired with every swing of his sword. Daenerys looked at the dagger in her hand, a smoldering and mesmerizing black, not reflecting the light of the fire in its blade. She had seen her children die before her, screaming and bleeding and crying for help as they fell from the sky. She thought of them, as she thought of the big house with the red door, and as she thought of sharing lemon cakes with Sansa. As the Night’s King was about to defeat Jon and take his life, Daenerys rushed forward, screaming in anguish, with the dragonglass in her hand and Sansa’s eyes in her mind. The distraction had worked; the Night’s King turned his attention towards Daenerys, and easily slid his sword into Dany’s belly. As Dany’s petite body was held above the Night’s King, his sword inside of her, she stared into his eyes, terrifying, void of humanity, void of life. She then watched, in slow motion, as Jon drove Longclaw into the Night’s King’s side, a look of shock and disbelief flickering in his eyes just before he shattered and Daenerys dropped to the ground.

Jon rushed to her side, holding her head up with one hand and applying pressure to the deep wound in her stomach with the other. 

“Dany—“ he started. 

Tears collected in Daenerys’ amethyst eyes as a small smile grew upon her lips. 

“Jon...” she said sadly. “Tell Sansa... Thank you,” and with that, she drew her last breath, a smile upon her face. 

Drogon dragged himself towards Dany’s body, severely injured but clinging onto life. When Drogon realized his mother was dead, he screamed fire into the heavens, the ground shaking with his anger, the sky singing with his grief. He collapsed next to Daenerys’ body and died with her. 

_Jon told Sansa that he and the remaining men and women of the battle that day brought Dany’s body back to Castle Black, knowing she was the reason they defeated the Others, a seemingly undefeatable enemy._

_Sansa sat there in disbelief, staring at her hands, tears still refusing to form._

_“Where’s the witch?” Sansa finally asked after moments of silence._

_“You mean Melisandre? Why—“ Jon started, but Sansa interrupted._

_“You told me she brought you back to life. She can bring Dany back too.”_

_Jon looked at Sansa with doubt in his pale eyes. “Sansa...” he started again._

_“Please,” she pleaded. “Please help me.”_

_And so he did._

_Later that day, Melisandre was summoned to the room where Dany’s body was kept; the red woman was hauntingly and terribly beautiful, with red hair and red eyes to match the red ruby hanging from her neck._

_“So you wish to bring your friend back from the darkness,” Melisandre said to Sansa, something hiding behind her eyes that she could not quite put her finger on._

_“My_ wife _,” Sansa corrected coldly, her skin so pale it looked as though she was made of porcelain. Melisandre saw her beauty, but not the steel underneath._

_The red woman smiled softly._

_“My dear...” Melisandre started, putting her finger underneath Sansa’s chin; Sansa flinched away. “What you are asking must require great sacrifice. The life of a king. Do you know a king?”_

_Sansa looked hesitantly over to Jon, who met her stare with pale grey eyes._

_After a moment of silence, Jon sighed, massaging his gloved hand, his long face solemn._

_“She sacrificed herself for me... Not just for me, but for the realm, and for life itself. It is only fair that I return the favor.”_

_“_ No, _” Sansa growled angrily, desperately. Finally, the tears started to come. “I will not lose my brother. I will not trade your life for Dany’s. This pain is bearable, but I cannot lose you too,” Sansa pleaded with Jon._

_The faintest hint of a smile played across Jon’s lips. “You won’t lose me too. You’ll lose me instead.”_

_“No, Jon. As the Lady of Winterfell, I forbid it,” Sansa said, finalizing the conversation. Jon nodded and got up to give Sansa a kiss on the forehead, then walked out of the room._

_“Very well,” Melisandre said calmly. “We will burn Daenerys tomorrow morn.”_

_Sansa nodded, not meeting the red woman’s eyes. When Melisandre left the room, Sansa slowly walked towards her wife’s body, her hands shaking._

_She sat down next to the table where Dany’s body lay, placing a hand on top of her head, stroking her molten silver hair, still full of life even after death._

_“I’m so sorry I couldn’t bring you home,” Sansa whispered into Dany’s ear, then placed a small kiss onto her eerily cold, lifeless lips. Sobs wracked through her body as she let the waves of grief finally wash over her entirely._

*** * ***

_Jon massaged his hand. He sat in his cold guest bedchamber, allowing Sansa to sleep in the warmth of the Lord Commander’s quarters. He slowly sipped on a glass of mulled wine, cringing at its bitter taste._

_Jon had died. Jon had come back. Jon wished he had stayed dead._

_The young man playing at Lord Commander still felt no more than a green boy, although seasoned in both battle and death._

_He wanted nothing more than to trade places with Daenerys. He had been brought back to this life for a reason, and he had fulfilled that reason. Daenerys gave her life for his, and for humanity. He wanted to give Dany another chance at life, to see her home, to live happily with his sister. What more did he have to live for? Ygritte was dead, and so were Robb and Ned, and his true father and mother, and many of his brothers of the Night’s Watch. He would either live the rest of his days at Castle Black, providing a now meaningless service, or go back to Winterfell... to serve what purpose? He did not know what his place in this world would be. He did not want the Iron Throne; he decided that the moment he learned of his true identity. He was not fit to be King. While Westeros healed itself from the War for the Dawn, the throne sat empty. There would soon be a council to decide whom should sit upon the swords of Aegon’s enemies. He knew the council would choose him; he had proved himself a reliable and outstanding leader, and he_ was _the true king, afterall. But he would have to refuse. He thought of Bran and Sansa. He thought of Ghost. He thought of Arya. He wanted to help her heal, to play in the snow with her and their direwolves, to muss her hair. But was that enough to make life worth living?_ What is my place in this world? Should I choose my duty? Or should I choose love?

_Voices echoed through his mind, ghosts of the past._

“It should have been you.”

“You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

“Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Kill the boy and let the man be born.”

“You are the prince who was promised. You are Azor Ahai born again. You must lead us out of the darkness.”

_He looked into Ghost’s blood red eyes, certain he could feel his companion pleading with him. He did have another option..._

_He knew what he had to do._

*** * ***

_Sansa awoke to the pale winter sun shining through the window of the Lord Commander’s chambers. Something had jolted her awake; some noise. Half asleep, she couldn’t tell what it was. But as she came to, she realized that it was a wolf howling, and it sounded close. She shivered, and dressed herself to go outside into the courtyard of Castle Black._

_When she reached the courtyard, she saw Ghost. Howling. Her mouth was agape; she could not believe her eyes... or ears. Ghost had never made a sound in his entire life. And now... he was howling._

_Ghost ran up to Sansa and gave her kisses on her cheek. She smiled sadly, feeling warmed by the direwolf’s affection._

_Then she smelled an odd burning stench, and so she turned around. She saw a man with dark brown hair dressed in a black cloak being burned at a pyre, with Melisandre at its head. She assumed it was a brother of the Night’s Watch. The sweetly sick smell of burning flesh stung her nose and brought tears to her eyes. She began to walk over to the pyre as a deeply troubling sensation filled her gut._

_When she got to the pyre, it took her a moment to process what she was seeing. The man on the pyre looked like her brother Jon, but it couldn’t be._

_And then she realized._

_“_ NO _!” She screamed, and began to run towards the flames. The few brothers of the Night’s Watch that were left contained her as she sobbed, feeling more grief and anguish than she thought she could handle._

_Sobbing and clawing at her hair, she screamed for Jon, begging for someone to take away her pain. Jon couldn’t be dead, he just couldn’t be. How could he be so stupid? They didn’t even know if this... this_ atrocity _of a “ritual” would work, and now he was gone along with Daenerys._

_Ghost tugged at her cloak and licked at her tears, whining until she looked him in his eerie red eyes. Something about his eyes were different, and yet familiar. Ghost stared at her intently, pleading for her to understand._

_“J-Jon...?” Sansa asked between sobs, feeling as though she’d gone mad. Ghost howled in response._

_“Sansa?” she heard her name called from behind._

_She turned around to see Daenerys standing in the courtyard, bare feet in the snow, her chainmail still covered in blood. She looked confused and lost; for once, she truly looked her age: a young girl._

_Ghost galloped over to Daenerys and licked Dany’s palm. Daenerys did not notice._

_Sansa’s sobs turned into hysterical laughs, as her grief, confusion, and joy overwhelmed her. Sansa fainted._

Sansa shivered at the memory, bittersweet in nature; distressing and mortifying, and yet somehow still joyful. She wiped a tear that escaped from her eye and took a few shaky breaths, overwhelmed from the rush of mixed emotions she felt. 

“Are you okay?” a voice called from behind. 

Sansa jumped, startled by her sister’s presence. 

“Gods, Arya, you have to stop sneaking up on me like that!” Sansa half smiled. Arya returned the smile. 

“I wish they could be here,” Sansa said softly. By they, she meant her mother and her father, Robb and Bran and Rickon, and mostly... Jon. After Daenerys’ return, Jon... or Ghost? (she never quite decided on how to refer to him) left to be beyond the Wall. She assumed he wanted to live amongst the other direwolves beyond the Wall now that it was safe from the Others. Even after all these years, a part of Sansa was still angry with him. 

“Me too,” Arya agreed quietly. After a moment’s silence, Arya said, “you know, I still feel his presence. Jon’s, I mean. When I’m inside Nymeria. He’s still out there. And he’s happy, I think.” Arya stepped across the room and gave a small, reassuring squeeze to Sansa’s shoulder. She smiled and left the courtyard, giving Sansa some space. 

After a while, Daenerys joined Sansa by the lemon tree, intertwining their fingers. Sansa rested her head on top of Dany’s, and together they stood there in silence, just appreciating each other’s company. 

“I’m sorry Bran couldn’t be here,” Dany said softly after a long time. 

Sansa sighed. “It’s fine. He has many important duties, considering he _is_ the King of the Four Kingdoms.”

Dany chuckled lightly. She had given up that dream ten years ago, after she had come back. All she wanted after that was to live in peace with Sansa by her side. 

Sansa had been named as Queen in the North by her brother Bran after the council that decided who would rule over Westeros named Bran as King. The Iron Islands and Dorne also declared themselves as independent kingdoms. Bran was fine with that, as long as Asha Greyjoy and Arianne Martell signed treaties to guarantee allyship between them and the Four Kingdoms. 

For ten years, Sansa had ruled over the North with Arya, Theon, and Brienne in her Queensguard, and with Daenerys by her side as her wife. 

Every few years, Daenerys and Sansa would visit Braavos and spend a fortnight in the big house with the red door and the lemon tree outside the window. Five years ago, they had silver-haired Catelyn, and a year after that, they had red-haired Rhaella. 

On the ten-year anniversary of their wedding, Sansa and Daenerys took to Braavos and brought their daughters, as well as Arya, Nymeria, Theon, Jeyne, Brienne, and Missandei to celebrate. 

“Are you ready to make some lemoncakes?” Daenerys smiled broadly, squeezing Sansa’s hand. Sansa returned the enthusiasm and helped her wife pick the ripest lemons from the lemon tree. 

They spent the rest of the day making dozens and dozens of lemoncakes for themselves and their guests, allowing Catelyn and Rhaella to help. The kitchen got messy; little Cat threw flour on little Rhaella, and Rhaella returned the gesture by throwing sugar at her sister. Soon, the kitchen, as well as Dany, Sansa, Catelyn, and Rhaella were coated with powdery sugar and flour. Laughter filled the halls of Dany’s childhood home and soon she and Sansa forgot all about the nightmares of their past lives. 

*** * ***

Daenerys sat at her vanity, allowing Rhaella to brush out her silver-gold hair until it shone like the moon. Dany was wearing a beautiful silk dress with an intricate design going down the front, white as a weirwood’s bark, and she smiled at her reflection in the looking-glass. Rhaella whispered silly things into her ear and tickled her mother’s tummy. Dany held an assorted bouquet of colored tulips in her hands, enjoying her younger daughter’s company and looking forward to renewing her wedding vows with the love of her life. 

*** * ***

Dany stood outside by the lemon tree, amazed by the scene surrounding her. Missandei, Jeyne, Theon, Brienne, and Arya (and Nymeria, too) had set up candles across the courtyard, some floating on lilypads in the small pool of water beside the lemon tree. A Targaryen-Stark tapestry hung brilliantly on the wall that surrounded the house, decorated with flowers of every color of the rainbow. There was an elaborate table set up with duck, stuffing, bread, dates, wine, ale, and lemon cakes, along with a huge bouquet of differently colored roses at the center. Her heart warmed with gratitude towards her found family and friends, those who had stuck by her and Sansa for their entire lives, and who had set up such a special night for Dany and her wife. 

Just then, Sansa stepped outside into the courtyard, a white-fur dress clinging to her skin and flattering her slim body, with a direwolf sewn into the bodice. Sansa’s hair shone like the sun and Dany could not help but feel tears in her eyes. Sansa smiled brilliantly and giggled like a little girl as she began to walk towards Daenerys, with Arya and Nymeria carrying the long, elegant train of Sansa’s dress behind her. 

Theon, Jeyne, Brienne, and Missandei stood watching, smiles on their faces as little Rhaella and Catelyn ran across the yard in front of Sansa, showering everyone with white flower petals, giggling all along. 

Once Sansa reached Daenerys, their daughters, Arya, and the direwolf stood with the rest of their friends and watched as Sansa and Dany promised themselves to each other once again, for the whole world to see. 

“Sansa Stark,” Daenerys said, holding the taller girl’s hands in hers, tears glistening in her eyes. “I could go on for hours, but I’m hungry and I want to share our delicious lemon cakes with you and our friends so I’ll get to the point,” she said, pausing so everyone could laugh lightly. Sansa looked deeply into Dany’s eyes, pressing her forward. “I love you more than words can say. You have sacrificed so much, and have never once questioned your love for me. You have stood with me through nightmares and death and fire and blood, and have never wavered in fear. You are not just my sun and stars, but my galaxy. My love, my life, I promise to love and serve you until the day I die, and then in whatever comes next. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You are my constant. I am yours forever,” Dany finished, smiling so brightly that it outshone the stars. 

A tear escaped Sansa’s eyes, as she returned her wife’s smile. 

“Daenerys Targaryen,” Sansa said, her voice wavering with emotion. “I have never once doubted my love for you because since the moment I met you I knew you were the one for me. I have stood by you because I have always known that you are where my heart belongs. Not only are you a hero, but you are _my_ hero, and there’s nothing I would not do for you. You are my constant. I promise to love you until the ends of the earth and further,” Sansa finished, tears now flowing freely from both women. 

Sansa and Dany hugged each other tightly, and came together in a kiss with their lips pressed tightly against each other’s, never wanting to let go, as all their friends rose up in cheers. 

The rest of the night was full of drunken laughter and twinkling stars, banter and kind words, and memories that would last Daenerys and Sansa a lifetime. 

*** * ***

_**Fifty-Two Years Later** _

Daenerys left a single blue winter rose at Sansa’s statue, alone in the chilly crypts of Winterfell. Their daughter Catelyn was now serving as Queen in the North. 

Dany sighed, thinking on all the time that she and Sansa had spent together. Dany was nothing but an old crone now, with nothing to offer but her wisdom and tales of caution. She now had no place in Winterfell; she belonged in her home, in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. But she did not want to leave Sansa’s side. 

She missed Sansa’s lips, and the way she tasted after she had just eaten lemon cakes. She missed Sansa’s laugh, easy to come and resistant to leaving. She missed Sansa’s unrelenting kindness and strength, even in the face of cruelty and adversity. She missed Sansa’s fiery red hair and ocean blue eyes. Most of all, she missed... _Sansa._

Tears welled up in her eyes as Daenerys clumsily sat down next to Sansa’s statue, her old bones creaking in response to the movements. She let the wave of grief wash over her, sobs tearing through her, hugging herself tightly to keep the pain from bursting from her body. 

Although the nightmares and anxiety had been long gone for many years now, she had not experienced pain like this in all her life. Not even her own death could compare to the pain of losing Sansa. 

After she had finished letting herself show weakness, she attempted to stand back up but could not find the strength in her body to do so. It was not until Rhaella had found her, snoring while sleeping against Sansa’s statue, that she would leave the crypts. 

*** * ***

**_One Year Later_ **

Daenerys shielded her eyes from the bright summer sun shining down on the courtyard with the lemon tree. Catelyn and Rhaella had come to visit Dany in the big house with the red door, both with their own sons and daughters. Dany had not felt this happy and full of life since before Sansa had passed. 

The sweet smell of lemon cakes came wafting into the courtyard from the kitchen window as Daenerys was teaching her grandchildren some Old Valyrian phrases and words. Catelyn’s son Robb and Rhaella’s daughter Arya sat in Dany’s lap as Dany told them stories of her dragons, of knights saving ladies, of Robert’s Rebellion and the War for the Dawn, and of Sansa’s beautiful smile. 

“Arya! Robb! Aemon! Rhaenys!” Catelyn called through the kitchen window, summoning the grandchildren for lunch. 

“Are you coming Grandmother?” little Arya asked, tugging Dany’s hand, her eyes shining. 

“I will in a few moments, dear, give this old crone some time,” Dany smiled gently. Arya giggled and ran after her brother and cousins into the kitchen. 

Daenerys watched a butterfly cross the yard and fly over the wall, and thought of Sansa. She missed her so greatly sometimes she thought she might die from the pain. But today, she felt only peaceful and happy. 

She reflected on the Night’s King’s eyes, wondering if they terrified her any longer. They didn’t. 

She thought of Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion. She missed the feeling of riding on Drogon’s back, the sensation of his large black scales against her palms, the wind in her hair. 

She thought of Jon, and his sacrifice. She felt only gratitude for him, for giving his life for hers. She felt a little sad, too, but felt comforted that it was his choice in the end. 

But mostly, she thought of Sansa. She watched as the clouds covered the sun, listened as the wind rustled through the leaves of the lemon tree, breathed in the smell of roasted pork and baked goods. Off in the distance, she heard a harp playing a song that sounded strangely familiar. She realized that Sansa had sung it to her once. 

She closed her eyes and swayed gently with the music, feeling the warmth of the sun and the breeze against her skin. Although Daenerys had lived through countless horrors and traumas, she had finally healed. She had found peace and happiness in Sansa, in her children and grandchildren, in her friends, in the big house with the red door, and most importantly, in herself. 

As her heartbeat slowed, she thought only of Sansa’s eyes staring into hers on their wedding night, her red hair splashed against the pillow, Sansa’s skin against her own. She closed her eyes one last time and drifted away peacefully, her heart full of love. 


End file.
